A Slow Seduction
by CriminallyAcclaimed
Summary: A year after the Final Battle Hogwarts is finally back up on its feet and opening its doors to students from other countries and welcoming back old teachers. Enter Remus Lupin and Whiskey Mathews. One a teacher, the other his student-If only fate would recognize the cruelty of placing them in each other's company so often. Remus Lupin/OC. Student/Teacher. Alternate Universe.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** I'm only writing this once so listen up. The only things that are mine are the things that aren't anybody elses.

* * *

**RELATING TO UPDATES: ****  
**I have a bad habit of abandoning stories. To remedy this I now publish updates in mass (at least 3 chapters), and the last chapter of the update will work well as an ending should I choose to discontinue the story. I hope you find this method agreeable.

* * *

**Monday, September 2, 1999**

_Whiskey–_such a painfully American name. Where else would a parent think to name their child after alcohol?

"Here Sir." The girl replied, waving her hand lazily before slumping back in her seat.

Well, the name suited her at least. Remus thought as he continued down his student roster, wondering idly if her eyes were responsible for her name. Even from this distance he could see the remarkable hue that was so strongly reminiscent of the amber liquid.

"Alright class, now I'm sure there are more then a few of you wondering why Defense Against the Dark Arts is necessary now that the war is over," Remus said, noticing a few nods and mutters if admittance. "For those of you with this mindset I strongly urge you to leave."

The mutterings quickly grew and several students glanced towards the door, trying to decide if he was serious or not.

"Teaching someone who has already determined the knowledge I am attempting to impart to them is useless is not only unnecessarily difficult but also a waste of time and effort on both our parts." Remus said over the hum of voices.

"Additionally, as you are all seventh years I am forced to conclude that you are either taking this course willingly or are forced to in order to pursue your chosen career paths. Of these two the latter would be the most likely to harbor the aforementioned belief that this class is pointless _and if,_" He continued, stressing the last words to keep their attention as it began to wonder. "You fail to see the reason why the career you have chosen mandates this class be taken then I _strongly _recommend that you choose a new one because you clearly have failed to grasp the entirety of what the job entails."

He paused now and waited while his students resumed their muttering, taking advantage of the moment to observe his new students –or not so new now that he had taken a good look at them. The names were a blur but he recognized many of them as the students he had taught five years ago, they were third years then by his calculations –Harry's classmates, he realized. He looked around the room again and frowned, they might resemble them but these were not the same children he had taught, they were different now. Forced into adulthood before their time by one man's vendetta and the war that resulted from it.

His eyes fell back on Whiskey and he tilted his head with curiosity. She was not participating in the speculative murmurings of her classmates, in fact she was turned deliberately away from them, her eyes glued on the window. He followed her gaze and was more than a little surprised to see a large hawk sitting on the window sill staring back at her.

"Um, Sir?" One of the girls at the front of the class asked uncertainly, drawing him out of his musings and causing him to raise an eyebrow in response.

"Well, I mean –aren't you even going to try to convince us that this course is worth taking?" The girl asked. Remus' other eyebrow shot up to join the first as his eyes lit up with amusement.

"Oh I don't think so. You see Miss —"

"Patil."

"Ah, you see Miss Patil if you can't see why this class is important then I don't think it's my place to reminding you that their are still Death Eaters on the lose or that the dementors still haven't returned to their post as Azkaban guards yet or that werewolves still come out on the full moon or that ghouls are still waiting for you in your attic. No, I think that it would be very cruel of me to shatter the illusion that nothing can hurt you now the war is over, don't you think?" He said, barely able to conceal the grin that was threatening to break through.

"I agree completely Sir," Someone said."After all they say it's dangerous to wake up sleepwalkers and hell, it's a nice dream so we might as well let them keep it right?"

He wasn't sure why he was surprised that it was Whiskey who had said it, the American accent couldn't have belonged to anyone but her and yet it still took him off guard. Maybe it was because he wasn't expecting a response but whatever the case his carefully concealed grin slipped when he caught the look of amusement shimmering in her eyes.

"Exactly." He replied, turning to the rest of the class and giving them am expectant look. There was murmuring again, embarrassed this time and clearly trying to justify themselves to their classmates. He noticed one of them turn to Whiskey but she brushed them off and turned back to the window, taking out a small leather bound notebook and a writing device he was unfamiliar with and started drawing the bird that watched her so carefully.

As the bell rang announcing the end of class he watched as the falcon flittered gracefully into the classroom and perched itself in front of the girls chair. It bowed to her and she tilted her head to it in return before it took off again.

"A friend of yours?" Remus asked as she began putting her things away.

"You could say that." She replied with a lazy smile.

"I've never seen a bird like that, what is it?"

"_She_," Whiskey replied, throwing her messenger bag over her shoulder and turning to him. "Is a Red-Tailed Hawk Sir. Her name is Echo and she serves the same purpose your owls do."

"So she is your messenger?" He asked.

Whiskey thought about this for a moment before nodding.

"Yes, though she is my companion first and foremost."

"I see, and you brought her all this way with you?"

"No Sir," Whiskey said with a light grin. "I left her back in North Carolina with my Uncle. She came here of her own volition."

"But," Remus hesitated, he didn't know where specifically North Carolina was in relation to the United States but he knew no matter where it was the bird would have had to have flown over the vast ocean separating the US from the UK at some point. "That's thousands of miles."

"What can I say," Whiskey shrugged before making her way toward the door, pausing in the doorway to toss him a grin. "Americans are stubborn."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thursday, September 5, 1999**

It was Thursday night and Remus was sitting in his classroom enjoying a cup of tea and reviewing the year's first batch of essays when he heard a tentative knock on the door.

"Sir?" A familiar voice asked as a female silhouette slipped into the room and looked around nervously.

"Miss Mathews?" Remus asked curiously.

"Oh, hi Sir." Whiskey said with a grin, scratching her head and laughing nervously.

"Is there something I can help you with?" He asked leaning back in his chair.

"Yes and no. See I was supposed to be serving a detention with Professor Snape tonight but he told me to go find someone else to serve it with and since you are the first teacher I've found—" She said, letting the sentence hang.

"Ah, and what exactly did you do?" Remus asked, his eyes shinning with amusement.

"Which time?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. Remus quirked an eyebrow and leaned forward in his chair.

"Why don't you start from the beginning." He suggested.

"Okay," Whiskey nodded. "But I'd like it noted that none of this would have happened if I had been aware of the bias and malevolence Professor Snape holds towards all houses not his own."

"It has been noted." Remus replied indulgently.

"Good! Because if I had know Snape would be so unfair in his judgement of the situation I would have dragged the cheeky little bastard into the nearest empty classroom and pummeled him there instead of decking him in the middle of the hallway." She said, nodding to herself as if in agreement.

"Of course you would have." Remus replied, not at all certain as to what–or who–she was referring.

"I'm talking about Zambony, or Zoomboozy, or Zimbabwe, or whatever his name is, it's something like that—"

"Zambini?" Remus suggested.

"Yea him! I hit him," She said, snapping her fingers. "Not Snape, no no. I should have phrase that better I'm sure you were confused anyhow—"

"See I was in the hallway minding my own business when the little brat—"

And at this Remus grinned because Zambini was easily twice her size.

"—made some snide comment about how sad it was that my parents greatest ambition in life for me was to be a cheap date for broken lonely men–which I have to admit was pretty clever, usually people just call me an aspiring alcoholic and are done with it. You'd think they would be more original really, Whiskey lends itself to a wide variety of material but for some reason I always just hear the same old things, I bet he put a lot of thought into that before he said it–and if I had given it a moment I'm sure I would have come up with a nice retort but I was feeling lazy so I just hit him instead." She said, nodding again.

"And then Snape came along and went gonzo and docked a bunch of points and shouted a lot and I guess I just zoned out 'cause the next thing I know he's saying 'maybe a weeks detention will wipe that idiotic grin off your face' and I–not really thinking at the moment–nodded and said 'yes Sir I imagine it would' and then he got really quiet and scowled more and told me to report to his office at eight o'clock and I asked him if it was really appropriate to be alone with a Professor in their office so close to curfew–a comment I probably should have made without the grin–and then he got really red and told me that if I said one more word he'd have me expelled before I could say a word I can't pronounce–which is why I _completely _agree, it would take me years to say that word, I don't think we even have those consonants in America–so I just gave him a real big smile and he scowled more and docked the rest of our house points and then he spun around really fast and his robes did some nifty swishy thing and he stormed off." She said so quickly that it took Remus a moment for it all to catch up with him and _understand _what she had just told him.

"Okay so then we fast forward a few hours right and I'm kinda rushing to get to Snape's office cause I'm totally late but only kinda rushing cause I'm trying to do that whole spinning-swishy-robe deal that he did earlier and I've almost got it but not quiet so I do it one more time outside of his office–I figure when the detention is over I can show him cause it's really pretty but I'm not sure he realizes he even does it–but you see the problem is that all the spinning kinda makes you dizzy and I lost my balance and when I reached for the doorknob to help me balance I stepped on my robes and the door flew open and I crashed into a chair which hit a desk which shook the cauldron on it which knocked the cauldron over which spilled the contents which melted the bookshelf leg which made the bookshelf fall over which hit another bookshelf on the way down which hit another bookshelf which hit his desk which knocked his desk across the room into the bookshelves on the other side which knocked them down," She pause here taking a deep breath and meeting Remus' eyes for a moment before plowing on. "Which caused all the jars and cages and books and body parts to get smashed to pieces which made him start yelling and he said 'get out, get out, get out!' and I said 'what about detention?' and he said 'find someone else to do it! You will never step foot in my office again!' and I said 'okay' and I left." She concluded with a lopsided grin that made Remus wonder if she was really as endearingly ignorant as he seemed.

"And you came here?" He asked.

"Yup." She nodded.

"Well I have to say Miss Mathews that is quite a tale." Remus said, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his tea.

"I know right? And I have a first name ya know?"

"I don't think it would be appropriate for me to call you by your first name." He said lightly.

"Seriously? So it's cool for a Professor to be alone with a student in his office–which in the split second I saw it before it was destroyed I perceived to be a very creepy by the way–an hour before curfew but it's _not _okay for you to call me Whiskey?"

Remus frowned, unsure of how to respond, luckily he was spared the trouble by her continued prattle.

"Well fine, but can you at least drop the Miss stuff? Call me Mathews, or Mathew, or better yet just call me Matt and I'll drop the Professor bit okay? I'll still call you Lupin and all it's just that the Professor thing is way inconvenient."

"I'm not going to call you Matt, and how is the word 'professor' inconvenient?" He asked, raising an eyebrow–a gesture he was sure would become a habit in her presence.

"'Cause it limits the scope of our conversations. See, it's a constant reminder that we aren't equals which is cool except that when you are trying to hold an intelligent conversation with someone and you're always thinking about how conversation will shape that person's perception of you and they are your superior you're more likely to tell them what you think they want to hear instead of speaking candidly which results in a relatively shallow and ultimately pointless encounter."

Remus' other eyebrow shot up to join the first as he took a minute to process her words.

"You've thought about this a lot haven't you?" He finally said with a light grin.

"Nope," She said with a cheeky grin, shaking her head in a way that reminded him of Padfoot. "I'm just good at improv."

"I see." Remus replies skeptically and her grin grew wider as she nodded.

"Yea see I grew up a Navy Brat, my dad was in the Seals right so I learned pretty quickly that if I wanted to do something that went against the grain that I'd better be able to come up with a good reason and be able to express it well. Also," She added, almost as an afterthought. "I've got a soft spot for Star Trek, especially Spock, and from him I learned that if you can present a concise, logical argument with as little room for emotional bias as possible you will likely succeed in making your point in a way that most people can understand."

"Whose Spock?" Remus asked.

"Meh, never mind. Hey, do you wanna play tridimensional wizard's chess? It took some doing but I finally managed to teach my pieces how to use the board!"

"Um—"

"Great! Okay so you start by putting your King, Queen, Bishops, and four pawns on this level! Then you put a knight and rook and two pawns here and here! Now it's just like normal chess except your pieces can move up and down–depending on the availability of the square they want to move to–as well as forward and backward!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Thursday, September 12, 1999**

"Ugh, did anybody catch the name of that train?" Whiskey groaned.

Remus chuckled from the bed adjacent to hers, it wasn't often that he encountered people in _worse _condition then he was the day after the full moon.

"Oh good," Madam Pomfrey said, bustling into the room and setting down a tray of noxious looking potions on Whiskey's bedside table. "You're awake! That was quite a nasty fall you took."

"Fall?" Whiskey asked, wincing and she tried to sit up and earning a frown from the matron.

"Yes dear, you were at Quidditch tryouts remember?" Madam Pomfrey said, placing a small red bottle in her hand and indicating she should drink it.

"Christ that stuffs awful!" Whiskey exclaimed after downing the vile concoction. "And no, I don't remember."

"You were trying out for beater when a rogue bludger caught you in the ribs and knocked you off your broom. It seems that Mr. Zambini thought that it would be amusing to 'mix things up' as he put it. It was fortunate that you were the only casualty." Madam Pomfrey informed her.

"Yea, lucky me." Whiskey groaned, earning another chuckle from Remus.

"What are you laughing at–Oh, hello there Professor." Whiskey said, her scowl quickly changing to a smile as she turned to face him.

"Miss Mathews." Remus nodded.

"So what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" Whiskey asked with a grin.

"I just come for the drinks." Remus replied, returning her grin with one of his own and raising a vile filled with purple liquid in a mock toast.

"Aw that's so sweet! But you didn't have to come all this way just for me." Whiskey quipped.

"You've got a response for everything don't you?" Remus said with a laugh, shaking his head and leaning back in his bed.

"Generally speaking." Whiskey said, smirking and tossing him a wink.

"So," Remus said a few minutes later as Madam Pomfrey left them to check on her other patients. "How did your detentions go?"

"Oh they were great!" Whiskey said enthusiastically, turning to look at him with bright, cheerful eyes.

"On Thursday you and I played chess, on Friday I showed Flitwick muggle magic tricks, on Saturday Sprout showed me pictures Amazonian carnivorous plants and even let me meet a few, on Sunday Binns told me stories about Merlin, on Monday McGonagall and I discussed the fundamental differences between Metamorphmagi and animagi and the practicality of forcing them to register, on Tuesday Hagrid took me into the Forbidden Forest and I got to meet his pet hellhound Fuffy, an on Wednesday I got to read all about Fred and George Weasley and all the great pranks they pulled while organizing Filtch's filing cabinet!" She recounted merrily. Remus grinned at her and shook his head.

"I'm sure Professor Snape loved that." He laughed.

"He," Whiskey paused, her smile slowly turning into a frown. "Was not happy."

"I'll bet." Remus replied, his eyes shinning with mirth as he imagined Severus' increasingly desperate attempts to make Whiskey miserable and the frustration he must have felt as he failed repeatedly.

"He was going to give me another weeks detention for not grasping the concept of punishment but then Professor Dumbledore walked by and told him that he couldn't give me detention for not experiencing detention correctly and that next time Snape would just have to oversee my detention personally." She said with a nod.

"I see, and what did Professor Snape say to that?" Remus asked jovially.

"He scowled and said 'Yes Headmaster' and did that twirly-robe dealio and then I told Professor Dumbledore that he reminded me of my grandpa and he smiled and gave me a lemon drop." She said and Remus could almost _see_ her beaming up at Dumbledore with that radiant smile of hers and telling him he was like her grandfather. And somehow Remus could see _that_ too, _of course _he seemed like her grandfather! Why wouldn't he? The mischievous nature, the ability to find the good in any situation, the hidden sensibility and intelligence that lay behind a mask of infinite curiosity and wonder...

"But he's not your Grandfather right?" Remus asked slowly, suddenly unsure if she was just playing another game or not.

"No Sir, my Grandpa died when I was a kid, but I remember he had this long grey beard and bright blue eyes just like Dumbledore!" She said, nodding again.

"And your other Grandfather?" Remus asked.

"Oh," Whiskey said with another frown. "I don't know, my Dad's family doesn't really talk to us much, we're kinda the black sheep ya see."

"Oh." Remus asked, raising an eyebrow. It was difficult for him to imagine why anyone would choose to shun part of their family, but to ignore this girl? She seemed to have a talent for drawing people in, making them feel comfortable and interesting. How could anyone _choose _to ignore her once they had met her? But then, whose to say they ever met her?

"My dad's a squib you see," She said in way of explanation. "And that didn't sit well with his family. They were kinda mortified, apparently it brought shame to the whole family: A pureblood line, producing a squib and all that. So they sent him off to muggle boarding schools and he ended up joining the Navy Seals. Anyhow, he met my mom at the Quidditch Cup and they ended up getting married and had me and my brother Charlie but I never met my grandparents on my dad's side–or anyone else for that matter."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Remus said, not quite sure of how to react to what she had just told him. To admit you had a squib in the family–to admit _your father_ was a squib–was not something that people generally did. It was akin to admitting you had a werewolf in the family or that your brother was a Death Eater, it just _wasn't done, _and so Remus had to wonder if she had just entrusted with a something special. A family secret not to be divulged to anyone but your most reliable confidants perhaps? Was he willing to take on that kind responsibility? To be the person she went to when things went wrong?

"Is something wrong Sir? Should I get the nurse's attention?" Whiskey asked, concern ringing clearly in her voice.

"What? No I–Why did you tell me that?" Remus asked, shaking his head as he tried to organize his thoughts.

"Tell you what Sir?" She asked, now sounding as confused as he felt.

"That thing about your family–about your father." He said, looking at her with an indecipherable look.

"My father?" She asked.

"About his family, about how he's a squib. Why did you tell me that?" He asked again.

"Well you seemed confused Sir, I thought maybe if you knew the reason his side of the family doesn't speak to us then you wouldn't be." She said, now more confused then ever.

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked.

"No it's just," Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "That's not the type of thing people generally talk about." He said and a look of understanding passed over Whiskey's face.

"But Sir," She said hesitantly, shaking her head. "I'm proud of my father. He was a great man, why should it matter if he was a squib or not?"

"It shouldn't," Remus said, choosing his words carefully. "But it will to some people. You need to be careful who you choose to tell, not everyone is going to be nice about it. There is still a lot of prejudice out there about muggleborns, just imagine what—"

He stopped and gave her a remorseful look.

"I see. You're worried about people like my dad's family." She said and Remus nodded.

"Well to be honest Sir," She said after a moment, a determined grin returning to her face. "I don't give a damn what other people think of me. If someone wants to hate you they will find a way to do it, if it's not my family then it will be my haircut, if it's not my haircut then it will be my clothes. I can't stop people from hating me Sir, I can only choose not to give depth to the things they would hold against me."

"Wise words Miss Mathews. Remus my boy how are you doing?" Dumbledore asked as he swept into the hospital room.

"Very well Sir, Miss Mathews was just educating me on the better part of valor." He said, grinning over Whiskey.

"Ah yes, she does seem quite knowledgable for her age doesn't she? Why just yesterday we were discussing the parallels between the muggle and wizarding worlds. She pointed out–and quite rightly so–that even though we had many minor conveniences that muggles do not, that our most prominent advances in the fields of medicine and technology coincide rather startlingly with that of muggles since about the 19th century."

"And," Whiskey added with a cheeky grin. "That even though the wizarding world has had the benefit of few millenniums head start, the muggle world's rate of development in the past 200 years easily eclipses that of the wizarding world in the field of advancement."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "It's amazing the things that can be done when the complacency that comes with an easy solution isn't available."

"Mhmm, defiantly." Whiskey nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thursday, October 31, 1999**

Whiskey sighed as she looked at her reflection in the mirror, despite the assurances of her dorm-mates she was still nervous. It wasn't her appearance that she was apprehensive about though–it was the dance itself.

Whiskey was not a dancer–at least, not in her mind. She has no problem letting lose in the sanctity of her own room but in public? She couldn't even dance when her dorm-mates were present! It wasn't that she didn't know how so much as it was that she wasn't sure if she were any good–_she _thought she was, but her own opinion was not enough to abate her fears. In fact she probably wouldn't even be going if it weren't for the nagging curiosity she couldn't quite place.

She took a deep breathe and looked in the mirror again, trying to reassure herself. She told herself that she looked nice, that the off-the-shoulder black dress framed her silhouette and the way it faded at the bottom, starting at mid-thigh on the left and tapering down to her knee on the right, had a nice effect. She frowned at her feet, she had no justification for the strappy black heels except that they finished the look nicely.

Whiskey shook her head in drew herself up, her shoulders leveling with determination as she called on every ounce of false bravado she possessed and took her first step towards the door. She could do this. She _could _do this.

She totally couldn't do this. What had she been thinking? Curiosity be damn, she was going back to her dorm!

"Miss Matthews do you plan on standing there all night blocking the door or are you going to go in?" Came the familiar drawl of Professor Snape, giving her just the push–figuratively speaking of course–that she needed at the moment.

"It's a tough call Sir, but I think I'll go in." She quipped.

"You look very handsome tonight by the way–Sir." She added after a few seconds, shooting him a wide, honest smile before stepping into the Great Hall without waiting for his response.

Twenty minutes later found Whiskey hovering near the refreshments table half-hoping that the cluster of teachers nearby would deter anyone from asking her to dance and casually listening in on their conversation.

"Does anyone know why Severus seems unusually distressed tonight?" Dumbledore asked as Snape docked twenty points from a Hufflepuff boy and his date for dancing too close together. Whiskey grinned and turned towards the group, deciding to make her presence known.

"I'm afraid that's my fault Sir. I saw him on the way in and told him he looked handsome tonight, I guess he took it the wrong way."

"Ah yes, that would explain it," Albus said, his eyes bearing their trademark twinkle. "Severus can be quite bashful."

"So it seems." Whiskey agreed.

"Speaking of handsome," she said, turning to Remus and grinning. "You're looking quite suave tonight as well Professor."

"Umm, yes well–Thank you." Remus coughed, a light blush creeping across his face. What he _wanted _to tell her was that she looked rather lovely herself but his sense of propriety–not to mention his current company–kept the words at bay.

"And you look quite dazzling as well Miss Mathews," Albus said, and Remus was glad that _someone _had told her because she _should _know. "But why aren't you dancing?"

"No date," Whiskey replied with a shrug. "And it's not really my kind of music."

"I see. Well Miss Mathews if you would do me the honor of a dance, I'll see what I can do about the music." The headmaster said in a conspiratorial kind of way.

"It would be my pleasure Sir." Whiskey grinned, taking his arm as they made their way towards the dance floor, the tempo of the music slowing from a frantic trance beat to a quiet instrumental piece.

It was a few minutes after they come back when the DJ announced the traditional student-teacher dance and was met with a tidal wave of groans and scowls-except of course, for Whiskey, who was grinning so widely you'd think Christmas had come early.

"Oh, oh! I'll be back in a few minutes! I'm gonna go find Snape!" She exclaimed, rushing off into the crowd of people trying to clear the floor.

"Any luck?" Remus asked when she reappeared a few minutes later.

"No." Whiskey replied, and she honestly seemed a bit down about it.

"Oh well, I'm sure Remus would be delighted to dance with you." Albus volunteered, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Really?" Whiskey asked, cheering immediately and looking up at him with bright, hopeful eyes.

"Really." Remus said after a moments hesitation and was rewarded at once with a brilliant smile. It was hard, he admitted, _very hard_ to say no to that face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Saturday, November 9, 1999**

Whiskey growled as a rhapsodic cheer echoed through the castle. It was the first Quidditch game of the season and Whiskey was _not _attending. She was still bitter about not making the team–or rather, not being allowed to re-apply to be on the team. The captain–Stevens or something like that–had stubbornly told her that it was too bad she hadn't gotten to finish at Quidditch tryouts, but that he couldn't bend the rules for her or he'd have to for everyone. Whiskey had a sneaking suspicion that he just didn't want to waste time on the girl who couldn't dodge a bludger though–nevermind that nobody had expected a rogue bludger to be on the pitch during preliminary laps.

Whiskey scowled again as another cheer sounded. It wasn't that she wanted Gryffindor to lose or anything–especially since the boys who _released _the aforementioned bludger was on the other team–it was just that she didn't want to _hear _it. After all, what was the point in skipping the match if you could hear it all anyhow?

She sighed resignedly as she pushed open the library doors and walked in. She had been _hoping _that the Hogwarts library would employ the same system of carefully chosen muffling spells to block out most outside noise like her old school had but apparently they didn't. The noise from the Quidditch pitch was every bit as noticeable here as it was in the hallway–if only slightly drown out by the barrier of yet another heavy stone wall–and judging by the look of the woman sitting behind the desk, Whiskey wasn't the only one who found it to be irksome.

"Excuse me ma'am." Whiskey said politely, approaching the woman with an open smile, not wavering in the slightest when the woman turned and scowled reproachfully at her.

"I was wondering if there is a spot I can use for studying? Somewhere away from the noise of the stadium perhaps?" She asked.

The woman seemed to scrutinize her for a moment before giving a curt nod and motioning for Whiskey to follow. She led her to a small table near a fenced off section with a sign reading 'restricted' and told her to sit there.

"This isn't the farthest desk from the pitch but it's not near any windows and the bookshelves should help to block out the sound." The woman said.

Whiskey nodded and thanked the woman, placing her bag down on the table and taking out a few things. Despite what she had said Whiskey had _not _come here to study. In fact Whiskey never studied, not because she didn't need to–her grades where decent enough but nothing remarkable, acceptables and exceeds expectations with the rare outstanding or poor–but because it just wasn't in her. Whiskey was a procrastinator by nature and as long as she got by she saw no reason to change that. It was a constant source of frustration for many of her teachers, they knew that she could easily be at the top of the class if she put in the work but she seemed content to stay in the middle and lacked work ethic. She did excellently in class, taking good notes and grasping spells quickly, but when it came to homework she simply fell flat. Worse yet she was a gifted writer but simply didn't turn in essays when the topic didn't peak her interest.

The truth was that Whiskey, for all her intelligence, was lazy to the point of sin. And so now, as she sat on the floor with her back against a bookshelf and her new Wolverine Origins comic in hand, the likelihood of her getting any work done that day dwindled to zero. In fact it wasn't until she saw Remus exiting from the restricted section half an hour later that she remembered why she had _really _come here in the first place–to see if they had a book on animagi for transfiguration class.

"Hello Professor." Whiskey said cheerfully, surprising Remus and making him jump.

"Oh Miss Mathews, I didn't see you down there! Why are you on the floor? Are you hurt?" Remus asked, looking down at her quizzically. Whiskey grinned and shook her head.

"No, I just think it's more comfortable here then in the chair." She replied.

"Of course," Remus said, his tone light with amusement. "How silly of me to assume you weren't there intentionally."

"Well you know what they say about assuming sir." Whiskey teased.

"In fact now that I think of it my students _do_ frequentlyask to sit on the floor in my classroom. It's just that I often forget how uncomfortable chairs can be when faced with the option of a cold stone floor." He continued, raising his eyebrow comically at her.

"Indeed." She agreed, nodding her approval.

"So," Remus asked, taking a seat next to her on the ground. "Why aren't you at the Quidditch match?"

"I decided to be passive-aggressive and not go to the match since I didn't make the team." She said with a shrug.

"I see, and how is that working out?" Remus asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly as he tried to keep a serious face–a task he was finding unusually difficult in present company.

"Well, I just finished reading my comic and now I've run into you so I'd say all and all it's working out quite well." She replied thoughtfully.

"But what about you Sir, what are you doing here?"

"Ah, I was just getting a book on lethifolds for your class. We'll be going over them on Monday." He said, holding out the book for her to see. Whiskey frowned and shrank away from the book as if it were the thing itself.

"I don't like lethifolds." She said darkly, watching the book with wary anxiety.

"I don't think many people do." Remus commented lightly.

"No," Whiskey insisted, shaking her head. "I mean I _really _don't like them. My uncle is a magizoologist you see, so I'm used to seeing all kinds of creatures right? But I remember when I was six, my brother and I went to stay with him for a week while my mom was in South America curse-breaking for Biltmore and my dad was off-shore doing training exercises with his team. Earlier in the week my uncle had agreed to take a look at a creature one of his friends had encountered while camping in Colorado and the crate with the creature in it arrived about two days after we did. I remember my uncle was surprised when he saw it, recognizing it immediately as a lethifold and telling us to be very careful around it, we weren't supposed to go anywhere near it's enclosure and that was scary in and of itself because our Uncle always let us play with his creatures–even the dangerous ones–as long as he was watching. Later that night my brother and I were sitting in the living room telling ghost stories when we heard this noise outside. We went to see what it was and when we got there we saw the lethifold _eating _the porlock my uncle got to protect his herd of granians! When it saw us it disappeared off into the forest and I swear it was the creepiest thing I have ever seen! It was like a shadow the way it moved across the ground! It took days for my uncle to convince me that I didn't have to sleep in the barn with his re'em to be safe at night and even now I have a trouble getting to sleep when I'm alone. It helps a little that my uncle taught me the patronus charm almost immediately after I got my wand–I don't think he ever stopped feeling guilty about what happened that night–but the idea of it; a living shadow that swallows you while you sleep, still haunts me sometimes."

"I can see why that would frighten you." Remus said after a minute and to his surprise Whiskey laughed.

"No kidding," She grinned. "And it wasn't helped any by that time a boggart jumped me in my fourth year. I swear I scared it worse then it scared me though–you should have seen how that thing reacted when I sent Shinx at it! It was great!"

"Shinx?" Remus asked.

"Mhmm, my patronus: Shinx the Lynx," Whiskey nodded, unable to stop herself from grinning at the silly rhyme. "Man that thing disappeared so fast you'd have thought Shinx was a Hungarian Horntail!"

Remus chuckled and shook his head. It didn't surprise him in the _slightest _that she had named her patronus _or _that she was able to produce a fully corporal one–if anyone was capable of finding a memory happy enough Whiskey was the girl.

"Well Miss Mathews I really should be going now. I've got a lot of work to do and relatively little time to do it in. It was nice talking to you, I hope you have a good weekend." He said, getting to his feet.

"Okay Professor, bye! Thanks for chilling out with me! See you on Monday!" She said cheerily, waving to him as he turned to leave.


	6. Chapter 6

**Saturday, November 23, 1999**

Remus sighed heavily, looking up at the Shrieking Shack as memories from his past flooded through him. Had it really only been five years since he had last been there? Five years since he had been reunited with his childhood friend and learned the true nature of James and Lily's deaths? It seemed like so long ago now, just like everything else that had happened over the past twenty years.

A snapping twig brought Remus out of his thoughts and he spun to meet the potential threat with his wand out.

"Woah," Whiskey said, putting her hands in the air and raising an eyebrow. "Easy there Cowboy."

"My apologies Miss Mathews–force of habit." He said, tucking his wand back in his robes.

"Understandable. So this is the infamous Shrieking Shack, eh?" Whiskey asked, moving to stand next to him.

"That it is." Remus agreed.

"Aw, it doesn't look so bad. With a little bit of TLC–some new paint, maybe a new roof–I bet that it would look pretty nice. I wonder how it is on the inside?" Whiskey said thoughtfully.

"Pretty tragic." Remus admitted without thinking.

"Have you been inside?" Whiskey asked, turning to look at him.

"Um, yes. When I was a student my friends and I snuck in once or twice–to see the ghosts."

"And where there any? Ghosts I mean." She asked, tilting her head with curiosity.

"Not really." He answered cryptically.

"Well thanks for clearing that up." Whiskey laughed, looking back at the house.

"Always happy to help." Remus grinned.

"Great, then you can help me get in!" She replied, walking towards the fence and making as if to climb it.

"What? Your kidding right?" Remus asked incredulously. Was this girl completely off her rocker?

"Nope. I wanna to in, and your going to help me." She said, pausing from her perch on top of the wall to look down at him.

"And why would I do that? In case you've forgotten I'm your teacher, I should be giving you a detention for even suggesting it, not helping you break into a private property. Besides, you can't get in that way, there are no exterior entrances." Remus said, folding his arms and raising an expectant eyebrow.

"Well you may be my teacher but I think you're also my friend, maybe my only friend here, and friends help each other get into trouble. So give me a detention and show me how to get in!" She said brightly, wearing an imploring expression that was nearly impossible to resist.

Remus sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. She would probably get hurt if she kept looking for an entrance on her own–God only knows what had taken root around the shack's expansive lawn over the years–and he doubted very much that she would stop looking. He could warn her until Hell froze over and she would probably wouldn't stop, her unyielding, infinite curiosity driving her forward until something horrible befell her. Could he live with the knowledge that his actions–or lack their of–had directly resulted in the death of one of his favorite students? A student who considered him a friend no less?

"The only way to get to the Shrieking Shack is through the Hogwarts campus." He said after a minute, cursing himself for his weakness. But that look–it reminded him so much of Sirius–how could anyone say no to that slightly mischievous but innocently determined expression?

Whiskey hopped down off the fence and hugged him tightly for a second before breaking away and beaming up at him.

"Great!" She chirped, her eyes wide with excitement.

Remus frowned as he crawled through the tunnel that led to the Shrieking Shack. The last time he'd been here he had been so preoccupied he didn't even notice how cramped it had been–but now? He defiantly noticed it now, and if the steady stream of muffled curses pouring from Whiskey's lips where any indication, she did too. There must have been a cave in at some point, Remus realized, because he had been bigger then Whiskey in his seventh year and he didn't remember struggling as much as she seemed to be.

"Ouch, dammit!" Whiskey growled, scraping her knee on a root as the tunnel began to climb upwards at a considerably steeper angle than Remus remembered.

"Miss Mathews maybe you should—" But he didn't get a finish his warning before a loud yelp sounded and she came crashing back down towards him. Remus tried to move out of the way but it was too late and she landed with a loud '_thud' _right on his back. Remus groaned miserably, wondering what he had been thinking to have taken her here as he heard her squeak with surprise.

Even without seeing her he could tell that she was blushing right down to her toes with embarrassment and he groaned again. How did he manage to get himself into these kinds of situations? It was her, he decided. She was a decidedly bad influence on him.

"Sorry Professor." Whiskey said and Remus could almost _see _the embarrassed grin on her face.

"'s fine." Came the muffled response.

"Maybe we should just go back?" She said sadly.

"We can't," Remus said, attempting to sit up and tossing Whiskey on the ground in the process. She squeaked again and Remus grinned slightly, it was actually kinda cute when it wasn't accompanied by pain. "It's not wide enough for us to turn around and I doubt we can back out without getting ourselves seriously banged up. We'll have to go the rest of the way if we want to get out."

For once Whiskey said nothing and Remus looked down at her with concern. He could only make out a faint outline but from what he could see she was on her back with her legs curled against her chest, her eyes fixed on something a few feet ahead of them in the tunnel.

"Miss Mathews?" He asked, his eyes following her gaze but seeing nothing. He heard more then saw her moving, sitting up quickly and scurrying back as far as she could–which wasn't very far–until her back was pressed to his chest. He tensed immediately, not at all comfortable with the contact.

"Did you see that?" She asked in a shaky voice and he shook his head, not able to speak but knowing she couldn't see him. Hell, _he _could hardly see _her _in this light, and if it hadn't been for his keener senses he was sure that he probably wouldn't be able to see even that.

"It was a shadow." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. He was about to tell her that they were in a tunnel, shadows where common in tunnels, when he remembered the story she had told him a few weeks ago.

That's right, he thought, she's afraid of shadows. For a moment he felt like laughing but as her story became clearer in his memory he suddenly felt bad for her–what a terribly consuming thing to be afraid of.

"Alright," Remus said at last, taking his wand out of pocket and reaching around her to point it ahead of them. "Then let's do something about it."

"Lumos."

The tunnel flooded with light and for a full second he was confident that everything was fine until he felt Whiskey press more urgently against him and point a shaking finger towards the end of the tunnel where the light just barely hit. He felt a sinking sensation, his blood running cold as he realized that she had _not_, in fact, been imagining things. They had managed to stumble right into a nest of lethifolds, undoubtedly taking advantage of the abandoned tunnel and it's prime location to sleep during the day before they went out hunting.

The creatures seemed to be hesitating at the edge of the light but Remus knew that wouldn't hold them, the only thing that would repel a lethifold was a patronus and the only reason they probably hadn't been attacked yet was because they were waiting to see if he and Whiskey would take a break at some point, making them easier prey.

"Alright Whiskey," Remus said, the use of her first name seeming to draw her out of her thoughts as he had hoped it would. "You said you could cast a patronus didn't you?"

He felt her give a jerky nod and felt a wave of relief wash over him.

"Alright then, on three okay?" He said, thankful that lethifold didn't have that same hope-draining ability that made casting a patronus so difficult in the presence of a dementor.

"One, two, three!" Remus shouted as they both cast their charms. Whiskey's first attempt failed but she quickly recovered, gathering her strength and putting everything she had into the spell.

The silvery forms of a wolf and lynx raced down the tunnel, catching the unwary beasts off-guard and dissolving them in a fury of good energy. The irony of the situation was not lost on Remus: Until he had been reunited with Sirius five years ago on the very spot that was his destination today he had not been able to cast a full patronus. All of his happy memories before that had been tainted with sadness and hatred but now he was able to look back and remember it all fondly. A fact which may have just saved his life and that of his student.

A student, he thought as another wave irony washed over him, that he thought would be in moredanger if he _didn't _show her the way into the Shrieking Shack. He groaned at the thought, where was his common sense today?

Whiskey shifted her position, something he genuinely wished she _wouldn't_ do because this was all bad enough without adding _more _inappropriate contact between them.

"Are you okay Sir?" Whiskey asked, the concern in her voice almost palatable.

"I'm fine, let's just–let's get out of here." He grumbled, feeling the beginnings of a headache slowly setting in.

"Huh." Whiskey replied in a tone that was far too thoughtful for his liking.

"What?" He asked wearily.

"Well," She said, squirming again nervously. "I'm just kinda... stuck."

"You're what?" Remus asked in a sharper tone then he had intended.

"Well it's just that," Whiskey paused and Remus could _feel _her skin heating up against his as she blushed. "There's no easy way for me to get out of this position except—"

"_Except—" _Remus prompted when it was clear she wasn't going to continue.

"Well, you have to promise not to tell anyone." She said and he felt a wave of dread building inside him. _What _was she considering doing that he couldn't tell anybody about?

"Why?" He asked anxiously, his mind running through a list of forbidden things she could do at the moment that would require his secrecy.

It has to be something that can help us get out of here, he reminded himself, but it didn't help any. In this place, in this position, with her constantly squirming against him like that, their was only one thing that he could think of her doing and it _terrified _him.

"Miss Mathews—" He warned.

"I'm going to transform." She said before he could finish–yet another thing he was grateful for since he had _no idea _what he was going to say.

"You're what?" He asked.

"I'm going to transform. I'm a animagus Sir, I learned the skill when I was little so I could help my uncle handle the creatures, it was easier for me then most–there's a whole line of metamorphmagus on my mom's side and even though I'm not one I still have a knack for self-rransfigurment. Anyhow, I'm going to transform to get out of here but I need you not to tell anyone okay? I'm not registered and I'd rather not be forced to do so." She said and Remus sighed as relief flooded through him. She was a animagus, all she wanted to do was to transform so she could move more easily.

"Alright, I promise," Remus said. "I won't tell a soul."

He heard Whiskey sigh and then felt the rather odd sensation of her body changing into that of a–of a what? What was she? He squinted in the dark and came to recognize the silhouette of a cat and a rather large one at that. He watched as it slunk forward through the tunnel, arching it's back into the tunnel's roof periodically to make the tunnel a bit wider for him.

As Remus scrambled out of the tunnel and stood up he finally got a good look at what Whiskey really was for the first time. He inhaled sharply as the beautiful cat turned to face him, she was easily the same size as the largest of Eurasian lynx but bore the stunning silver pelt of their Canadian cousins. She stretched lazily, yawning as her large paws stretched out as far in front of her as they could reach revealing the tips of razor sharp claws. She straightened and shook herself off, looking up at him with brilliant amber eyes–the first indication of the girl the lynx really was.

"Mmm," Whiskey said with a satisfied grin, stretching again as she returned to her human form. "I've been wanting to do that for so long, but I was afraid of someone seeing you know?"

"Yea." Remus said, and he kinda did too. It was hard, being something that you felt you had to hide from people. This room was testament to that. The deep gouges on the wall, left from him in the time before his friends mastered their animagi forms, when his transformations were spent alone and locked up, the disheveled furniture that he had taken his frustration out on. Yes, he supposed the Shrieking Shack _was _haunted in a manner of speaking. He couldn't remember much from his transformations but he remembered the emotions clearly enough–there was a lot of negative energy stored in these walls.

A movement to his right caught his attention and Remus remembered that he wasn't alone. He had come here with his student, he reminded himself and cringed at how that sounded.

"Whiskey? Are you alright?" He asked her after a moment, approaching her tentatively and placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face him and shook her head.

"This place." She said, her eyes heavy with remorse.

"This place," She said again, reaching out a hand and touching the wall where a particularly deep gash was. "This wasn't the work of a ghost Sir, surely you must know that? This was–"

She sighed heavily, kneeling to touch the floor where his blood has soaked into the wood and stained it a rusty red.

"This was a werewolf." And the way she said it, with such heartbreaking sadness, pained Remus.

"They must have been in so much pain." She continued, moving through the room and taking it all in. _Really _taking it in, he noted.

"They must have been so scared." She whispered as she came to the foot of the stairs and Remus really thought she was going to cry.

"I'm sure he's fine now." Remus said gently, coming up behind her and placing his hand on hers, not catching his slip-up.

"No they aren't. Look at this place? Does this look like it belongs to someone whose fine?" Whiskey asked quietly, gesturing at the room.

"Things are different now, there's the wolfsbane potion." He pointed out.

"If they can afford it you mean," Whiskey said and she was crying now, angry tears rolling down her face as she shook her head and her tone suddenly turning harsh. "You're forgetting Sir, Wolfsbane is expensive and even in the US their is still a huge prejudice against werewolf. Even my uncle—" She choked and Remus understood now. _That _was why she was so upset! Her uncle, her favorite uncle the way she spoke about him, had to endure the same thing he did every month.

"—even my uncle has a hard time with money and he's one of the most renowned magizoologists in the States!" She cried with frustration.

"Whiskey " Remus said firmly, cupping chin in his hand and forcing her to look up at him. "He's fine. _Really._"

He watched as a slow look of realization passed over her face and felt a strong urge to back away. He didn't want to see her reaction, he wasn't sure if he could _take _her reaction–as this girl who looked at everything with such bright, endearing eyes and cried for the pain of an unknown werewolf slowly realized that it was _he _who had marred these walls and stained the floor with his own blood. He didn't want to see that look of disgust–of hatred and fear. It was one thing to cry for your uncle or to know that your teacher was a werewolf but a totally different thing to see real _evidence _of what he was capable of. He couldn't move though, despite every fiber of his body telling him to _run _he was rooted to the spot.

He prepared himself for her reaction. Would it be violent? Would she attack him to get away? Would she transform and try to kill him? Would she run away? Would she start crying again? Would she beg for her life, thinking that he had lured her here to kill her?

What he _hadn't _expected was for her to throw her arms around him in a remorseful hug and bury her face in his dirt-laden robes.

"You're a werewolf. You're _this _werewolf." She whispered and he had to admit that his was surprise that she didn'tknow he was a werewolf _at all_ momentarily eclipsed his shock that she was hugging him. She had said that he was her only friend here though and he had noticed her disdain for rumors, turning deliberately away from them when people would start talking in class. It was plausible that she had managed to make it so far into the school year without figuring it out. Plausible but unlikely.

"I–yes." He confessed and he was once again surprised when she tightened her grip on him.

"I'm sorry," She said, meeting his eyes as she took a step back and reaching out a hand to touch his cheek. "I'm so sorry."

Remus hesitated for a moment before reaching out and pulling her into his arms wordlessly.

"Thank you." He whispered shakily. This was not something he was accustom to... but... he could grow accustomed to it, he admitted.


	7. Chapter 7

**Monday, December 9,1999**

Whiskey took a shaky breath, ringing her hands together as she stared the heavy wooden door a few feet away from. Why did this sort of thing always make her so nervous? It wasn't as if she was doing anything wrong! She just wanted to ask Professor Lupin if he was staying over Christmas break! But then–she'd never sought out his company before so...

She shook her head, a determined frown appearing on her face as she approached the door. She had hung out with Lupin on many occasions, this would be no different–she hoped.

She took a deep breathe and knocked on the door, a moment later she heard a muffled 'come in' and taking one last fortifying breath she opened the door and stepped into the cozy office.

"Oh, Whiskey, it's you. Good, I was wondering when you'd finally decide to knock." Remus greeted with a kind but knowing smile.

How utterly mortifying, Whiskey thought as a faint blush crept across her cheeks.

"You were?" She asked, not really wanting to know but thinking of nothing else to say.

"Yes well, I heard your footsteps in the hall earlier and they stopped outside my door so I assumed you were coming to see me, you stood there for so long I was beginning to worry though." He said, and even though his tone was as warm as ever the amused glint in his eyes told her that he was having a bit of fun at her expense.

Whiskey scowled, her blush deepening considerably. He had known she had been there the whole time? Fabulous, she thought before a wave of indignation swept through her. He had known she was out there the whole time and he didn't do anything! He just let her stand there like an idiot! Brat!

"So what was it you wanted to see me about that made you feel so nervous you had to wait ten minutes before knocking?" He asked, grinning outright. Whiskey's scowl deepened, he was enjoying her discomfort!

"I-well it's nothing important. I just wanted to ask if you were staying for Christmas, McGonagall took up the names today so—" She let the sentence hang, something Remus had noticed she often did when she was anxious.

"Oh," Remus said, his eyebrows shooting up with surprise. It wasn't exactly what he had been expecting considering her earlier trepidation about coming in. "No, I'm not. Why? Are you?"

"Oh," Whiskey sighed, seeming to deflate a bit. "I was kinda hoping to see a friendly face over the holidays. My uncle's off in Canada studying yetis you see so—"

"Oh, and your parents?" Remus asked, instantly regretting it as he saw her pained expression.

"They're dead Sir," She said, her shoulders sagging slightly. "My mom died last year when an Incan Tomb caved in her and my dad was killed in a training accident when I was thirteen."

"And," He hesitated, not at all sure if he should ask. "You're brother?"

"He's still alive," She said and for a moment Remus was relieved. "But not in any condition for company. He was a hit wizard and–well, even America suffered some casualties Sir. My brother didn't die but... it might have been kinder if he had."

Remus felt a pang of sympathy for the girl, even after he had lost Lily and James he had still had his family.

"Anyhow I had just been wondering if you might be staying," She continued, shrugging as if nothing had happened. "My birthday is New Years so I was kinda hoping for some company but it doesn't really matter."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Remus said, his eyebrows knitting together as he frowned. He was seriously considering changing his plans. "How old will you be?"

"19 Sir." She said, grinning proudly.

"19?" He asked with surprise. That was a bit old to still be a student.

"I was in an accident when I was little," Whiskey explained, her hand subconsciously traveling to the long, pale scar running across her collarbone. "I had to take a year off to recover."

"I see," Remus said not missing the gesture. His eyes trailed down the damaged tissue with morbid curiosity. "And what was the accident if you don't mind me asking."

"Ah well, when I was 15 I had an unfortunate run-in with a wendigo while exploring the forest around my uncle's house. I got out okay thanks to Remmy–the re'em I told you about a while ago–but not before taking some serious damage. It wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for the fact that wendigo wounds are _very _slow to heal and _extremely _resistant to magic though." Whiskey said, another faint blush staining her cheeks as she grinned and scratched her head bashfully. Remus raised an eyebrow skeptically, his eyes drifted back to the scar on her collarbone.

He doubted very much that it 'hadn't been too bad' as she put it.

"I see," He said, standing up and moving over to a small counter where he kept his kettle. "Well in answer to your earlier question: I won't be staying over Christmas, but I'm here now and I could use a break from grading essays so why don't you join me for a cup of tea?"

"Oh," Whiskey said, smiling brightly. "I'd love to! Except, well—"

"Except." Remus prompted, pausing as he filled the kettle with water.

"Well," Whiskey said, blushing for the umpteenth time that day. "I don't really like tea that much."

"Ah," Remus said, an amused grin playing across his face. "Coffee then?"

"Uh," Whiskey coughed and gave him a lopsided grin, shaking her head. "Afraid not. My tastes run more on the sweet side."

"Cocoa?" Remus tried, laughing as Whiskey's eye's lit up enthusiastically.

"Do you have any?" She asked.

"I may." He replied, searching his cupboards for a packet.

"I love hot chocolate," Whiskey grinned, curling up on one of the comfy armchairs in the corner and watching him curiously. "Especially during the summer."

"The summer?" Remus laughed as he finally located the small tin he sometimes kept cocoa in during the holidays.

"Mhmm," She nodded. "I don't know why but I always crave cocoa in the summer."

"That's also when I sing Christmas Carols." She added a second later. Remus turned to her, grinning widely and shaking his head.

"You're extraordinary." He said, sitting in the armchair next to hers and setting her cup down on the little table between them.

"You don't know the half of it." She grinned, picking up the cup and pushing her hair back behind her ear so she could take a sip.

Another scar, Remus noted, and—

"Interesting ears." He commented.

"Oh, do you like them? It's my tribute to Star Trek. Even though I'm not a metamorph I'm decent enough to maintain moderate changes to my natural appearance by focusing on the transitional traits between my lynx form and my human form. Like the ears and the teeth." She said, shooting him a toothy grin. He hadn't noticed before but now that he was looking for it her canines _were _unusually sharp.

"And the scars?" He asked.

"I earned each and every one of them." She replied.

"Actually, I was wondering why you haven't made any attempt to conceal them. You could couldn't you?"

"I could," Whiskey nodded, pausing for a moment to meet his eyes. "But as I said, I earned my scars–why shouldn't I wear them?"

"It just seems," Remus frowned, choosing his words carefully. "_Odd _for a young lady."

Whiskey broke out into a wide grin, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"That's because I _am _an odd young lady Sir." She laughed.

"Mmm," Remus hummed. "I've noticed."


	8. Chapter 8

**Tuesday, December 31, 1991**

Remus paused on the last step of the Astronomy Tower to admire the way the moonlight danced across Whiskey's tan skin and ever-messy dark hair. He knew he shouldn't be here, that it was a bad idea, but he just couldn't will himself to forget that it was her birthday at midnight and that she'd have to spend it alone if he didn't come back early. It had been sheer luck–or perhaps lack thereof–that had lead him to run into Dumbledore on the way to his chambers and learn that Whiskey was waiting for the new year on the Astronomy Tower. And surely that twinkle in Albus' eye when he passed off the job of accompanying her to Remus was just a stray star reflected in his eyes. After all, no sane man would encourage him they knew his affection for the girl right? But then, Dumbledore wasn't exactly sane, was he?

"Are you going to stand there all night Professor, or do you plan on joining me at some point?" Whiskey said with a sly grin and she turned towards him and leaned against banister rail–a new addition to the tower since Albus' near fall a few years ago.

"Still deciding." Remus replied with a lazy smile, his anxiety leaving him all at once as his eyes met hers.

"Let me make it easier for you then," She said, closing the distance between them and taking his hand in hers. "Come on." She added as she gave his hand a little tug and he followed her up the last step and into the moonlight.

"So," Whiskey said, smiling lightly and spinning away from him. "Why are you back early?"

"Well," Remus coughed and ran a hand through his hair, avoiding her eyes. "It's your birthday tomorrow and I just figured—"

Whiskey turned to him and smiled brightly.

"You came back for my birthday?" She asked, her eyes shining brightly.

"Well," He shrugged, unable to suppress the sheepish grin that spread across his face. "Nobody should be alone on their birthday."

"Mmm, remind me to tell my uncle that the next time I see him." She hummed.

Remus frowned, not sure what to say to and Whiskey stared back. It was awkward. Since when had being around Whiskey ever been awkward?

"So—" She said, shuffling her feet and biting her lip.

"I got you a present." He said, looking over at her and pulling a small box out of his pocket.

"Really," She asked excitedly. "I got you something too!"

"For your birthday?" Remus asked with confusion, tilting his head to the side.

"For Christmas." Whiskey said, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, right of course."

"You first." She said, sitting on the floor and patting the ground next to her. Grinning at him and holding out a wooden box.

Remus hesitated for a minute before joining her on the ground and taking the box, pressing his gift into her hand.

"It's your birthday." He said, nodding to the present.

"And on my birthday I get one wish, and I wish for you to open your present first." She replied pointedly.

Remus chuckled but nodded his defeat and looked at the present in his hand.

"What did you—" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I've never been very good at wrapping presents." Whiskey said, blushing lightly and scratching the back of her head.

"I can tell." Remus laughed, struggling a bit with the haphazardly wrapped box that had more tape on it then paper. He gave up eventually, pointing his wand at the box and uttering a quiet spell to cut through the mess.

"That's okay I had to ask Madam Rosmerta to help me wrap—" But the words died on Remus' lips as he took the vile out of the box.

"It's liquid starlight," Whiskey said hurriedly, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I know It doesn't seem like much but it's actually pretty rare and it's supposed to bring it's owner good luck plus it—"

"It's stunning," Remus said, cutting her off mid-rant and taking her hand in his. "Thank you."

"You like it?" She asked hopefully, needing to hear it to believe it.

"I love it." He smiled, looking back at the vile with amazement. Liquid starlight wasn't just _rare_, it was a Class A non-tradable good! You'd have an easier time getting your hands on a dragon egg! Which led to the question of _where–_and _how–_she came across this little specimen.

"Good." She said, nodding to herself cheerfully and fingering the little box in her hand.

"Do I want to know how you got this?" He asked, turning the vile carefully in his hands and inspecting it for clues as to its origins. The bottle wasn't very large but it was beautifully made of carefully sculpted glass that was undoubtedly elven and intricate metal detailing that could only be the work of goblins.

"Probably not." Whiskey admitted.

"Tell me anyway." Remus found himself saying, tearing his eyes away from the substance so he could look at her and inhaling sharply as he did so. If Whiskey had looked beautiful in the moonlight then it was nothing compared to how she looked now, caught in the glow of the Liquid Starlight.

"Another time perhaps." She said softly, smiling at him in a way that he hadn't seen before. It was an open smile, honest and light and much more fragile then the ones she usually sported. This one didn't scream 'invincible' like the others and it wasn't irrepressible or indomitable either, it was–it more genuine, no, but–less guarded.

He had seen her smile and laugh as Snape, Zambini, and countless others had tried their best to knock her down with their cruel words, laughing with them in an open manner and grinning lightly as she feigned innocence or parried them with a retort. She offered them the same kind of smile and laugh that she had given him that day a few weeks ago when she rushed into his office to tell him it was snowing, _really snowing_, and that he just _had _to come down to the lake with her to see it. It was her constant smile; endearing and cheerful and completely infallible, a smile that could deflect the harshest of insults and gain the deepest affection simultaneously, utterly irrefutable and irresistible and–far too practiced. But this? This smile was something precious, something rare and inexplicably touching.

"Your turn," Remus said, nodding to the box in her hand. "Now open it."

"Don't rush me." She grinned, carefully removing the tape and unfolding each edge at a painstakingly slow pace.

Remus huffed but didn't say anything, he was impatient because he wanted to see her reaction to thepresent. His patience–or lack thereof–was rewarded a moment later when she lifted off the top of the little box and saw what it held.

"Oh, it's beautiful," She said, holding up the silver necklace to the moonlight and gasping. "You really shouldn't have."

"It's a very special necklace," He told her as he helped her to put on the collar-style choker. "It's been charmed to always fit you–even in your lynx form–as long as you are wearing it when you change."

"Seriously?" She asked, not waiting for a reply before changing into her lynx form and admiring the way the collar looked against her pelt. It was elegant but robust and unlikely to break despite the abuse Whiskey (unintentionally) put most of her belongings through.

"Thank you." She said once she returned to her human form, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek.

"I–You're welcome." He breathed, his gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips and back up to her eyes again. She was close, too close and he wanted–he closed his eyes. He wanted _her_.

"Professor?" Whiskey asked, her voice laced with concern.

"Please call me Remus." He said, his eyes opening slowly to meet hers.

"Okay... Remus." She said slowly, a small smile gracing her face, as her arms made their way back around his neck and she looked deliberately into his eyes.

"Good girl." He growled before capturing her lips with his and as he pressed her back against the tower's stone floor a quote flashed through his mind:

_There is no man that lives that can't be broken down, provided the right temptation, put in the right spot._

_~Henry Ward Beecher_

* * *

**A/N: **Well there you all go, the first installment of A Slow Seduction chapters 1-8. Jury's out on if there is more to come or not, I did just get a new computer though so it's a good possibility. I apologize for any errors in this story, I tried my best to catch them where I could but with no beta (I'm searching for one now) and only my phone to work off of at the time I may have missed a few things. If you would like another update write a review, it might help motivate me._  
_


End file.
